Chapter 102: FC Utrecht vs Roda JC II: A New star is Born
Amani’s legs itched to run. At the break, as veterans gulped sports drink, he reflected on his dream last night: to make a difference in this final match. The locker room door opened. From the tunnel emerged Jan Wouters, called him aside, and spoke quietly: "Hamadi, you’re on for the second half. Trust your instincts."
A grin broke on Amani’s face as he nodded and popped a menthol lozenge. Back on the pitch, the referee blew the whistle for the restart.
Jan Wouters turned to his bench at the break. Amani gulped and tied his boots tighter. "Kid, warm up quick," the coach shouted over the roar.
The tension in the stadium was palpable. Fifty-five minutes had bled from the clock, and the score remained deadlocked at 1-1. FC Utrecht had traded blows with Roda JC, but neither side could find the decisive edge.
On the Utrecht bench, Amani Hamadi bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, his gaze fixed on the unfolding drama. His legs itched to run, a familiar sensation amplified by the weight of this crucial match. Coach Jan Wouters had pulled him aside during the break, the quiet intensity in his voice cutting through the locker room noise: "Hamadi, you’re going on. Trust your instincts."
Now, the moment had arrived. The fourth official’s board illuminated, displaying red number 24 Frank Demouge OFF and green number 37 Amani Hamadi ON. A wave of anticipation rippled through the Utrecht supporters.
At just fifteen years old, Amani was already a known quantity, a prodigy whispered about in hushed tones. As he jogged onto the pitch, the roar intensified. Demouge offered a weary but encouraging clasp of the shoulder, while veterans like Édouard Duplan gave him reassuring pats on the back. The air crackled with energy, a physical force Amani absorbed as he took his position.
The game restarted, and Roda, perhaps sensing vulnerability in the substitution, pressed forward. But Amani, fueled by his S-rank Mentality and Elite Composure, settled instantly. Almost immediately, ’Game Intelligence: A+’ allowed him to process the game’s rhythm; he sensed the space he’d analyzed: Roda’s diamond was stretched at the flanks.
He spread out wide on the left, touch-light and alert. Catching a pass from Takagi on the left wing, he pumped the ball forward in stride, drawing two defenders in his wake. Seeing Duplan on the right wing streaking through the box, Amani slid a perfect through-pass between the backline.
"Listen to this!" observed Leo Driessen, voice cracking with awe. "Amani Hamadi, 15 years old, is coming on at Roda – history in the making!" John van Loen smiled to the camera, "Remember this moment. The stadium’s on its feet for a kid who’s only just turned 15 2 months ago."
In that instant, the world seemed to narrow for Amani. Every second was in slow motion: the fans, the clapping coaches, the TV cameras. And then, in the deepest recesses of his mind, as if a coach from above, a digital display flickered: